Author: Alexander Fawn

Normally, the teacher didn’t discuss his coping methods with anybody.
However, his fellow teacher and friendly colleague had shown such genuine interest that he agreed to discuss it with her, after school hours. He had emphasised that for reasons that would become clear, he needed to be assured by her that she would treat everything in the strictest confidence. She had agreed. At the appointed time she appeared at the door of his classroom, keen to get the inside story on how to handle the youngsters who exhibited the very worst kinds of behaviour. She had never been in his classroom and stood looking around before knocking. It looked like any other room, except for a large wooden box that sat in the far corner. She tapped and he looked up from notes he was making. He smiled, welcoming her in.
He got up and immediately took her to the box. He was obviously proud of it and enthusiastically told her he called it his ‘naughty box’. “It’s a simple enough procedure,” he began. “If a child pays up badly, they have to spend time in here.” He walked to the side and pointed. She followed and saw the door. “This is where they go in,” he said, opening the door. He pointed. She stooped a little and peered inside. She could see a small chair with a low table in front of it. The table had a large, red button set in the middle. He moved forward and closed the door. He stood for a moment caressing the side of it.
She stood back to look it over. “I take it you built this yourself?’
“Yes,” he said, nodding, obviously pleased with himself.
“And? You were going to explain how it works,” she said, with growing curiosity.
“Oh! Of course, yes. Well, the principle is simple enough. Basically,” he explained, “this method works best with troublemakers who simply never do what they are told. With them, it works every time. If a child misbehaves during the lesson they are told that they have to sit for ten minutes in the ‘naughty box’. They are expressly forbidden to touch the button and in no circumstances are they allowed to press it.”

“OK,” she said softly, encouraging him to go on.
“They are told that if they press the button they will disappear, for ever.”
The woman takes on a quizzical look and asks, “Does it work?”
“Absolutely, they are never seen again.”
“Never seen again?” she repeats.
“Never,” he assures her. “The bad ones, I mean the really bad ones, you can rely on them every time.” With a broad smile, he said, “They never come back.”

She sat, looking down at the boxes and the shoes beside them.
Two pairs, they were both nice, one red and the other blue. The saleslady crouched down next to her. She had been very patient.
“The blue would go with an outfit I’ve got.”
“Red is certainly a colour very much in fashion at the moment.”
“Yes, I suppose so, but are they too…loud?”
“Not really. A lot of people seem to be wearing them!”
“Oh! I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”
“No time like the present…”
“I just don’t want to buy something and regret it afterwards.”
“OK. That’s understandable. Have you considered that instead of red and blue, you mix them as a compromise? To make purple, maybe?”
“Purple! Are you kidding! Yuk! Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”
She stood up abruptly and left the shop, leaving the assistant confused.
Back out on the street, she decided that thinking things over in her head didn’t always resolve matters!

It was arranged that the two men meet in one of the city’s less frequented cafes.
They both lived and worked in the city and were in their thirties. They had originally met, quite by chance, in a public library. They were both perusing book titles in the Unsolved Crimes section. They had become friends and occasionally caught up. Apart from them getting along, their backgrounds could not be more different. On the occasion of this café meeting, the inviter was a man with a shadowy past. His friend knew that he had worked for some government department, but was always reticent to talk about it. There always seemed to be something covert about him. On the other hand, the invitee, was an open book. He would think nothing of talking about his past in a frank and overt manner.
On the day they caught up, Covert was already there. He had secured a booth at the far end of the room. He rose and greeted his friend and they both sat down. After a brief update on how they were each doing, coffees were ordered. It wasn’t until the drinks had been delivered that Covert explained why he had asked the other to meet.

“I have an extraordinary favour to ask,” he said, dipping his hand in his pocket. He brought out a clenched fist. “It’s quite simple, really, but it does have a few caveats,” he said, smiling. He put his fist down on the table. “Open your palm,” he said with another smile.
Overt obliged and something small dropped into his hand. He was staring at it when the other closed his fingers over it, hiding it from sight. He looked up, confused. “Presumably, you’re going to tell me what I’m going to do with this?”
“Yes, I am.” Covert chuckled. “I’m relying on you.” He became serious and looked around. “For now, I want you to put it in your pocket.”
The other obliged.
“As I said, it’s a simple request, but an important one. I’d like you to take it home with you and secrete it somewhere in your house. In a place known only by you. At some future date, I will ask you to return it.” He sat back, studying his friend before going on. “As for the rules, you tell no one about it, not even your good lady.” He grimaced. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but it is vital that this remain strictly between us.”
The other shrugged. “My home, you say?”
‘Yes.”
“That’s important, why?”
“Because no one will look for it there.”
“This is not a joke, is it? You are serious about this.”
“Absolutely.”
Shortly after, they left.
This is all that is known about the day the two men met in one of the city’s less frequented cafes.

It has to be said that generally we are not welcome.
We certainly get a bad press. If we are not managed, and we can be managed, the results can be less than favourable. The fact is there are a hell of a lot of us and we’ve been around for a hell of a long time. Our saving grace is that some of us are here to do essential work. We just love replicating inside living cells. In fact, the cells of an organism is where those of my sort most like to be. It’s not just humans, we can do this with just about any living thing. When you think about it, it’s pretty exciting, us being sub-microscopic.

The truth is, if all of us suddenly disappeared overnight, humans would die out in a couple of days. So, when it comes right down to it, overall, viruses do more good than bad.
For goodness sake, just get on and manage us!

She heard from one of her workmates that he wasn’t well.
No one seemed to know what was wrong with him. She decided to give him a call when she got home. However, things got busy with the kids and coping because her husband was going to be late home. It was almost eleven when she remembered her friend and told her husband what people at work had said about him. They both agreed that it was too late to call. The next day in the warehouse, she asked if anyone had heard whether he was still poorly. She was told that he was more than poorly. Apparently, he was really sick and confined to bed. When lunchtime came she stood outside and rang his number. There was no reply.
That evening, knowing that he lived alone and was probably unable to get to a phone, she decided to call again, but if there was no answer, she’d send him an email. There was no reply so she fired up the computer. She immediately saw that the in box had a message with his name on the subject line. It was from his brother, saying that he would be staying with his brother for a few days until he was better. She immediately replied with a request to call in on the following day after work. The answer came back that his brother didn’t feel well enough for visitors just yet.
Two days later she heard that he had been admitted to hospital. She was scheduled to work a couple of hours overtime that evening, so she made arrangements with her husband to look after the children and she would visit him in hospital when her shift ended. Unfortunately, when she got there she was told that only immediate family could visit.
Several days after that, she heard that he had died. This sad news was followed up soon after with an invitation for the funeral, which she attended.

By the grave, she whispered, “I wish I had visited you when you were poorly.”

He lay there, observing.
The music was soft. He was peering through the partly opened door. It was a ballroom, dimly lit, with two figures dancing. He remembered the time, when very young, watching his parents dancing in the ballroom championships. They received some sort of prize; he doesn’t know what. People were clapping and they were taking a bow. They looked so happy. This was not there. This was not then. This was different. The dancers made no sound, they were barely touching the floor as they swept around the room. It seemed as though, while embraced and swirling in a faltering dance, neither was leading. As he looked on he realised that each was in a determined struggle to take the lead.
He pushed the door open further, it made a squeak. The music and the dancing stopped and the figures turned to look at him. Their faces revealed their identities; life and death. His eyes closed, shutting out the scene.

Other sounds came; beeps and drones, things clattering. Then, gentle voices. “That was close… Stabilising now… I’ll let you close… Thank you all.”
Life had taken the lead.

Crystals, snowflakes,
Sharp and bright,
All bathing
In a world of light.

Beams and rays,
Through shadows slice,
From lowly hovel,
To paradise.
–
It spreads and scatters,
Dances and glows.
It floods and glitters.
It warms and shows.
–
Great solar flares,
Ever spouting.
Gentle flames,
On candles sprouting.
–
Vast galaxies glowing,
Through the black,
While glow-worms,
In gloomy caves,
Shine back.
–
Creating day
From every night.
For all to bathe
In a world of light.

He left the final preparations until the night he would send his message.
It had been over a year since the shop owner had ripped him off. Hard earned cash just went up in smoke. The item was faulty. No warranty given. The shopkeeper almost laughed in his face. Most people would have regarded it as a minor incident, soon forgotten. The man currently stooped over, looking at the sequence of wiring through a lighted magnifying glass, didn’t see it that way. It had festered with him. As it was, a full twelve months had gone by. No one would see the connection.
He found what he needed on a website. It had taken some time to source and acquire the blocks of C-4 and detonators. Now, he was almost finished. “Blue to here, red to there,” he was whispering. So many things to remember. The instructions were clear enough. He just needed to take it one step at a time. He would make sure that nobody comes to any harm. He wasn’t a killer. No, he just wanted to put the guy out of business. Even if it’s only for a short time. He’d be happy with that.
He was setting the timer for one hour. Fifteen minutes to drive there. He knew where the best window was; no time at all placing it, then fifteen minutes back. With the timer set, he activated it.

Everyone in the street heard the explosion.
He’d never really got the hang of daylight saving.

As cosmic criminals went, she was up there with the best.
She had been on the run for a long time. Despite her careful planning and manoeuvring, she knew that the trackers had all manner of facilities at their disposal and they would eventually catch up with her. It came to pass that it was mid-morning when her door bell unexpectedly sounded, putting her on high alert. She went to the door and look through the peephole. He stood perfectly still, staring straight back. Black suit, tie and trilby hat; unashamedly looking the part. She opened the door and he entered with a grin. They both calmly made their way to the lounge, where he stood looking around before speaking.
“You must have known that it was just a matter of time,” he said, taking off his hat. “Ever since your criminal activities in the Andromeda galaxy, and your subsequent hideout on Pluto’s third moon, we’ve been tracking you.”
He fell into an armchair, making himself comfortable.
She sighed. “I am well aware of the advanced technology you have at your disposal.” She shrugged. “I’ll come quietly,” she whispered.
Before he could make a move to stop her, she opened the purse she was carrying and held up a small black device. “Hopefully, you won’t have come across one of these.”

His frown went to a look of slack-jawed disbelief, as she faded.
Just to repeat; she was up there with the best.

It had been a morning like any other at the station.

He looked at the platform’s clock. He was comfortable for time. In three minutes the city to city express would come through, followed five minutes later by his regular train. It seemed to be more crowded than usual with his platform packed with commuters all waiting for the same train. A number of passengers were standing a bit too close to the edge for his liking. Especially a small boy, who was deliberately jumping up and down at the very edge as a way of taunting his anxious mother. The first rumblings of the nonstop express were heard when the boy fell and his mother started to scream.
Pushing people aside and jumping down after him was the man’s immediate reaction. The boy had knocked himself out and lay across the rail when he scooped him up. The train was nearly on them and there was no time to make it back up. The man held the unconscious boy tightly close to him, as he crouched against the wall below the platform.
When the thunder of the express faded, the man lifted the boy to the waiting arms of his mother. The commotion that followed with people crowding round the mother and the boy while others were calling for an ambulance and giving medical advice at the same time. It was when a large woman pushed her way through the crowd loudly proclaiming to be a nurse that the rescuer managed to make his way further back along the face of the wall and almost completely unnoticed, quietly slip away. It was several minutes before people began asking if anyone saw were he went. Nobody could honestly say they did.
The man in question didn’t go in to the office that day, but called in to say that he had a cold. Not true, of course. However, what he did have was torn clothing, a number of severe scrapes and several nasty bruises. He realised that this meant that his cold was going to have to last a few days.
The incident went viral on the day, with lots of clips from people’s mobile phones being watched across social media platforms and the internet. He was positively uncomfortable with the exaggerated praise that was being heaped on the missing celebrity.
He winced at the thought of being caught up in the whole thing. He didn’t want cameras on him. He didn’t want to stand there holding the award or a medal, saying how humble he felt or how he didn’t see himself as a hero, or how he was sure anybody would have done what he did.
No, he didn’t want that.
Being humble really didn’t come into it and of course he was a hero. Also, he knew that not too many would have the courage to do what he did.
It was enough to know this… the rest he could avoid.